Verboten
by Jessi D
Summary: Medic considered himself soured on the concept of love, but when finding his way into the Doctor's affections, Heavy is surprising sneaky for such a big man.


I.

When Medic had been a young medical student - hair still black, face still unlined and no stigma yet attached to the name Adalric von Ritter - someone had told him that they loved him. Franz had been watching him adjust his hair in a mirror, still naked from the waist up, the covers clutched around his waist in an attempt to preserve his modesty. Ridiculous, considering they had just spent half-an-hour engaged in something highly illegal and, according to the current regime, "un-Aryan".

"_I love you._"

He slid the comb through his hair a final time, adjusting his forelock so that it curled properly,

"_Why?_"

"_What kind of question is that?_"

"_A reasonable one,_" he turned to face him. Franz was staring, mouth half-open like a fish. It was not an attractive look.

"_Well, it's... I mean,_" he was turning bright red as well. Adalric thought that soon Franz' annoying qualities would outweigh any sort of release that he got from him, "_Oh, goddamn it, I don't have to have a reason. I love you. I followed you to Heidelberg for God's sake!_"

"_Well, you certainly did not come here for the sake of your father's finances. Is there actually a chance that you may pass this year?_"

"_You're so cruel._"

"_You are the one who claims to love me despite this._"

That was the wrong thing to say. Franz perked up, looking quite like one of his father's dogs,

"_Do you feel the same?_"

"_No._"

"_There... There's no chance?_"

"_No._" Adalric took his coat down from the hook and began buttoning it up with his clever fingers, "_Not a single chance in Hell. This? This was fucking, Franz._"

Franz turned away. He didn't do it fast enough to disguise his trembling bottom lip. Adalric curled his own lip, suddenly swamped by a wave of disgust for this man.

"_I told you this before we started. You were convenient. Certainly I did not keep coming back for your company or your technique,_" the other man gave him such a wide-eyed, petulant look that Adalric couldn't help laughing, "_If I had wanted to be literally salivated over then I would find a pack of hounds._"

"_P-please... Please stop._"

"_I plan to,_" Adalric looped his scarf around his throat, "_There are others._"

"_Others?_" The word was almost lost in his blubbering, "_Oh, Adie._"

"_Do not call me Adie!_" snapped Adalric. The detested nickname just made things so much easier, "_In fact, do not speak to me at all, Franz._"

He slammed the door behind him, ending that particular exchange forever. Franz tried again, his persistence was admirable in a way. As the young student who would become Medic walked away he called after him. Possibly "_I'm sorry!_" or "_Come back!_".

Adalric did not look back. The smell of burning books hung heavy in the air.

II.

When Medic was fifty-one - distinguished streaks prominent against his temples and face lined, but still able to drive a bonesaw through a Spy - someone had told him that they loved him.

"I love you, Doktor."

Heavy's arms held him in a gentle grip. He'd done it as soon as Medic rolled off him, cuddling him to his broad chest. The German felt quite trapped there. Once he caught his breath, he would tell his team mate off for this unwanted intimacy - the embrace and the other thing.

"You do not know me."

"Know enough," a great meaty paw began stroking Medic's back, "Brave man on battlefield. Smart. Handsome."

This thing with Heavy had been totally unplanned. Medic had, in fact, resigned himself to a long stretch of celibacy while under contract. If Heavy had not walked into the infirmary shower block to see Medic with a towel wrapped around his waist and nothing else. If Medic had not seen Heavy look hurriedly away - an odd reaction for someone who lived in such close, intimate quarters with eight other men. Medic's lips had curled into a predatory smile.

"You may look if you vant to, Herr Heavy."

"Oh... da. Am sorry, Doktor."

"No need to be."

It had been months. Medic's last partner had been someone's research assistant, younger than he would have preferred but it couldn't be helped. As for Heavy, well it could be worse. If his proportions were strange then at least everything was present and correct. If there was an undeniable paunch straining the fabric of his shirt then at least that was offset by the immense muscles elsewhere.

Heavy was loud in bed, or perhaps he was only loud in comparison to Medic who had trained himself to be quiet. The German silenced him with a vicious kiss, full of teeth and tongue. Heavy's hands shook and fumbled with his own uniform and the doctor wondered how he would have managed the many buttons on his labcoat and shirt. Medic had not considered that Heavy's clumsiness was nothing more than inexperience. He'd assumed that Heavy had learnt the same lessons he did. Not that he knew much about the Soviet Union's attitudes but he could guess.

He sat up, shrugging off his team mates's powerful arms,

"I do not think zat's a good idea, Herr Heavy. Do you?"

"Oh." There was a long silence. Medic started to fix his hair, stretch all the kinks out of his limbs. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Heavy watching him. Well at least he could trust a hardened mercenary not to burst into tears, "...Ve... Ve can still do dis?" A giant hand caressed Medic's naked hip.

Medic thought of Heavy's strength and immense size. And he took orders so well, both on and off the battlefield as it turned out.

"I do not see vhy not."

III.

When Medic realised he'd fallen in love, there were no joyful proclamations or tears or whatever usually happened in these kinds of circumstances. Instead what he did was this. He retreated into his operating theatre and opened up the back of his Medigun. Then he stared listlessly at all the neat coils of wire with a sense of cold dread in the pit of his stomach.

His previous experiences of love had been... limited. Sex on the other hand, now that was a thing that Medic understood and was familiar with. It was a natural process after all, even if some called his feelings towards his own gender unnatural.

"Doktor? Do you play?"

That had been what started it all off - Heavy looking up at him so hopefully behind his black army. Behind the white army - or more accurately amongst the white army - was Herr Demoman, face down on the chessboard.

"Chess? Ja, I play it," he sipped at the sub-par coffee BLU provided, "I am surprised zat you do so."

"Must have someting to do on long winter nights," the Russian shrugged modestly, "Could give Doktor a game. Demoman is," he poked at his opponent, "not capable."

Medic had agreed and when the game started he toyed with him. Heavy made him regret it, playing along until the moment he punched effortlessly through Medic's defences. The German had scrabbled to reverse the situation but it had been too little, too late and Heavy had taken his king.

"Doktor! You went easy on me!"

"Zen set up ze board again."

This time he brought his all his skill to the game and so did Heavy. If any of their team-mates had happened to come across them neither man would have known, so intent were they on the board. And after that - after hours of wielding his queen, his knights like fine scalpels - Medic came out victorious.

Heavy sat back and laughed,

"Good! Have not had game like that since university!"

"Neizzer have I," Medic mentally rewound the conversation, "...You vent to university?"

That was the moment that Medic became acquainted with the Heavy that read hefty tomes and could dissect and explore them like the German could do with a human body. This Heavy was so startlingly different from the Heavy of the battlefield or the Heavy in his bed but there had been hints of it. They were not separate people after all but the same man in each instant. And knowing this Heavy's blind devotion and loyalty did not chafe Medic so badly. Knowing that there was more purpose to it than blind animal loyalty... Medic could come to love it.

"Doktor!"

Medic jumped, his hands convulsively tightening on the wires of his Medigun,

"Vhat?"

Heavy entered the operating theatre and Medic hated how that made his chest tighten,

"You were hiding from me, Doktor!" He bent to look into the innards of the Medigun, "Is problem vit healing gun?"

"Nein, nein," said Medic, ignoring the curve of Heavy's back, his broad shoulders, "It is just a little maintenance. Ve do not vant any problems to go undetected until ve are in battle."

"Nyet. Is sensible thing to do," Heavy grinned over at him, "What I expect from Doktor."

Medic busied himself tidying away the Medigun, reattaching the leads and the cover,

"Vhat did you vant anyvay?"

"Nothing," his huge hands settled on Medic's hips.

"Zat does not look like nozzink," it was alright. He could keep quiet about these things. He'd kept quiet for years about where he went at nights, all those clubs, all those men, while they burnt books at Heidelberg. He could keep quiet about this as well. He put his hands on Heavy's thick wrists, "Shall ve see vhat can be done zhen?"

IV.

He did not mean to do it. He should have controlled his actions: even under that amount of scrutiny with those hands everywhere and the angle just right. But he didn't and a moment of weakness could be dangerous for someone of his inclinations.

There could have been a better way of handling it. Maybe if he had ignored it... But no, Heavy had to know that something was wrong the moment Medic had gotten off him and locked himself in the bathroom. Not the wisest course of action, at least from here, sitting on the cold tiles, erection wilting away.

Behind the door he heard the bed creak as Heavy shifted. The lock wouldn't hold against Heavy. The Russian carried a one-hundred-and-fifty kilogram gun into battle. A cheap lock and a plywood door wouldn't pose a threat to him.

"Doktor?" Heavy tapped at the door.

Medic said nothing.

"Doktor, I am sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"...Nein," Medic may be in trouble, may have ruined this delicate balance he and Heavy had struck... But the man took so much pride in protecting his team-mates, if he thought he had harmed one it would tear him apart and Medic did not want him to be upset...

The Russian grunted and Medic's back tensed, expecting the door to crash open and his body to be suddenly crushed under one-hundred-and-sixty kilograms of Heavy Weapons Guy.

"Doktor," his voice was much closer, down to his level, "Don't be scared."

"I am not scared!" Medic snapped, "It vas just vords! Und zhey vere not even true!"

V.

When Medic was seventeen - an inch off his full height; still gangly; still referred to from time to time as Adie - he liked to run. As his tutors said, "A healthy body equals a healthy mind". And running, unlike fencing, was easy to do alone, easy to have time to think just letting his family's estate slip by while his mind worked. He had never been very good at fencing anyway. He'd mostly been in it for the form-fitting uniforms.

It was on one of Adalric's runs that he met Johannes. Johannes was also seventeen. Sky-blue eyes and blonde hair and a tan gained from long hours of work in the summer sun. He preferred to be called Hans.

Adalric's runs became shorter when he met Hans. Exercise was not a problem though, they got plenty of that together.

"_I love you_," said Adalric, when they kissed.

"_I love you,_" he said, when they touched.

"_I love you,_" naked together, meaning every word.

VI.

Another reason why locking himself into the bathroom had been a bad idea: he was cold. Medic paced the tiny confines of his bathroom, trying to keep himself warm. Heavy was always so warm. He remembered being held against his broad chest, just after their first time together. Heavy was still out there. He heard the tiny creaks of him shifting on the bed. Apart from that nothing.

In the end it was his pride that drove him out. He was not going to cower in his own bathroom from his own team-mate.

Heavy was sat on the bed. He was naked apart from his reading glasses, book open in his massive hands, dwarfed by them.

"It vas an accident," the book closed with a muffled, little thump, "Just because I say zhings vhen ve are engaged in intercourse does not mean zat I mean vhat I say. I did not mean to say zat I..." The words choked him.

"Did not mean to say 'I love you'?" Heavy smiled apologetically at his horrified face, "Am sorry, Doktor. Was wondering what was upsetting you so much and..." He waved the book he had in one hand. Medic's own English-German dictionary, still a necessary crutch on occasion for someone who came late to the English language.

"I said it in German..." Medic groaned, "Vell, I still didn't mean it," but it sounded like a lie even to him and he was naked in more ways than one before Heavy's gaze.

"Is okay, Doktor."

"Nein, it is not. Zhis... Zat kind of relationship... It is not for people like us," he shook his head, "I do not even know if you are... like I am."

"Would have thought smart man like you would have guessed," Heavy chuckled, "Think women can be pretty. But do not want them that way."

"Instead you vanted me."

"Da. Still do," he shrugged, the same helpless shrug he did when his search for a particular English word came up short, "Cannot help loving Doktor."

"_Vhy_?"

"Cannot help," another shrug, "...Just as Doktor cannot help?"

Medic took a deep breath. He felt Heavy's eyes on him as he crossed to the bed and sat down next to him. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope,

"...Cannot help."

Heavy's warm hand settled between Medic's shoulder blades, thumb moving back and forth gently,

"Dis is a good thing, Doktor. I love you. Doktor loves me." When Medic didn't jump for joy at this, he sighed and pulled the German into his lap, "Is just Doktor is scared."

"I am not scared!"

Heavy held up one hand, the other resting on the Doctor's naked hip,

"Sorry, Doktor. I meant..." his forehead crinkled, deep in thought, and when he spoke again his words were slow and careful, "In Russia, cannot have relationship with who I want. Get sent to gulag. Was same in Germany?"

"Ja."

"Is dangerous, da. And Doktor wants to be safe. Is most important thing to him. Outside battle have scary looks and shouting. Invented healing gun to make him invincible in battle," he grinned, "Doktor laughs so much during Über. Nothing can hurt him so he is happy."

"Ja. But how did you know?"

"Love Doktor. So I watch him. Make sure he is safe. Doktor," his other arm came round and Medic was held so gently against that broad chest again, just as he had been the first time they'd been together, "you are safe with me."

Safety - that precious and illusive commodity, brought with obedience, technology, healing but never permanent. Surrounded by Heavy's strength, Medic did indeed feel safe.

"And in return for this? Vhat? You expect me to submit? Is zat it?"

"Do not expect anything," another shrug, a fraction more pressure from Heavy's arms, "Protect Doktor because I want to."

Safety, complete and utter safety, had been rare in Medic's life and paid for dearly every time. But safety with nothing to be given in return was a new thing entirely.

"Stay. I mean... Vill you stay here vith me tonight?"

"Anything for Doktor."

VII.

Medic had slept well. That was surprising since he'd been woken up in the middle of the night by Heavy falling out of bed, then spent the rest of it squashed between him and the wall. The morning had more than made up for any discomfort though and, once they'd finished what they'd started the previous evening, Medic allowed Heavy to hold him on top of that broad chest.

Warm and sated and safe, Medic could admit that he was happier than he'd been for a long time. Bar only one thing, the whole situation was perfect.

Heavy had sat up, pulling the German up with him for more affection, kissing his forehead and saying, "I love you." Medic had tried to reply in kind - truly he had - but the words refused to come, lodging somewhere in his trachea.

"It is alright, Doktor," said Heavy, soothing hands at work across Medic's skin, "Dey are just words."

"Exactly. So zhere is no reason vhy ze gottverdammt zhings should be so difficult."

"Doktor is just not used to it."

"I know."

They stayed silent for a while, Heavy sitting up, Medic resting against the curve of his belly.

"...Maybe we could get Doktor used to it?"

"Und how do you propose ve do zat?"

"We say something else. Say one thing. Mean another."

"Like a substitute?"

"Da!" The Russian beamed, "Doktor can say... 'I know', da? And when he says it to me I know Doktor is really telling me 'I love you'."

"Und zhis is acceptable to you?"

"Da. Just want Doktor to be happy."

"Very vell zhen," Medic kissed him on the chest, on his solid jaw, on his mouth, "Heavy... Heavy, I know."

"I know too, Doktor."

VIII.

I know. It became theirs - something whispered in bed; or said across the chessboard; or bellowed by Heavy as they ploughed through the RED team, invincible together.

Once RED Spy has disguised as Medic and, presumably thinking it was a safe word, said it to Heavy as he passed. All the Spy got in return, however, was a large Russian fist in his face.

"He said it wrong, Doktor," he told the real Medic later, "Too casual."

Once BLU Scout had dismissed Medic's snapped orders with a roll of his eyes,

"I _know_, Doc. Geez."

The younger man had then been left wondering why Heavy had burst out laughing at that.

"Will have to fight leetle Scout for Doktor now," he'd said later, sweaty and tired in Medic's bed.

"Zhere is no danger of him being a credible rival, Heavy. He vould never shut his mouth long enough."

IX.

Medic was fifty-three as of two weeks ago when Heavy had surprised him with a cake and the sight of he and Pyro frantically trying to cleanse themselves and the kitchen of batter. He was sharing an armchair with Heavy, cuddled up on his lap, with his long legs slung over the arm. His copy of _Die Verwandlung_ lay open but forgotten on his knees, similarly Heavy was ignoring his Анна Каренина, place held with one massive finger.

"All zat I am saying is not uncommon for vork to go unrecognised until ze author's death."

"If was really good then would not have happened. Did not happen to Tolstoy."

"Ze circumstances vere different."

"Pah. Tolstoy is greatest writer of all time. Can beat _babies _with single hand!"

"Is zat how criticism is handled in Russia?"

"Da!" Heavy laughed, a deep rumble coming up from his chest, and Medic joined him, falling against his chest as he chuckled. Large hands pressed him even closer - Анна Каренина abandoned somewhere down the side of the chair - and the German dragged himself up for a kiss. Heavy kissed him back, then again and again, hands everywhere, sliding slowly but surely over his back and legs and ribs and face. Medic relaxed into them, kissing those hands whenever they strayed near towards his mouth.

"So affectionate today." He felt as though he could drown in such affection and he would not mind at all.

"Alvays am for Doktor," his hands slid maddeningly to a halt, "If he vants."

"Don't you dare stop!" Obediently, they moved again and Medic lounged against Heavy's chest. Later, later he would suggest taking this elsewhere. But for now he was content to be here, muscles unwinding under Heavy's diligent hands.

"I..." Heavy found an especially tense knot and the German interrupted himself with a groan, "Ahhh, zhere. I- I know."

"I know too, Doktor."

Medic was fifty-three years old - still greying, still with lines across his face. The next day he would go onto the battlefield to die a hundred deaths and to cause just as many. But for now, he had his arms hooked around the neck of a Russian, breathing in his scent and feeling the scrape of his stubbly jaw against his cheek.

"Ich liebe dich."

A pause. Heavy's fingers scratched at the back of his neck, "Was... another accident?"

Medic shook his head.

"Ich liebe dich-ach!" Immediately after the last word left his lips, he was being crushed by Heavy's massive arms,

"I love you too, Doktor!"

"Und zat is good but Heavy-" the Russian kissed him, on the mouth and he struggled against it, "Air!"

"Oh!" his grip loosened, and Medic could breath again, "Sorry, Doktor. Got excited."

"It is fine," wheezed the German. He took several huge lungfuls of air, "Just be careful. I cannot tell you zhese zhings if I am in Respawn."

Heavy chuckled again, touching Medic's face gently,

"Doktor is alright?"

"I zhink I can endure vun of your embraces."

"Da, would hope so! But did not mean that."

"I see." The words came so easily here. So easily now at least. The Infirmary was safe, secure, with locks and with the solid protection of his lover. But outside... His eyes flickered towards the locked door.

Heavy's fingers meandered across his back in the absent way that meant he was thinking,

"Some people do not say dese things in public. Has nothing to do with liking men or not. You are just private person, da?"

"You zhink?"

"Da," he smiled broadly, brushing Medic's forelock back from his forehead, "Do not mind. Doktor can tell me in private."

"I can recognise a hint vhen I see it," he smiled up at the Russian, bare hands stroking his thick neck and stubbly jaw, "Heavy, I love you."

"And I love you, Doktor."


End file.
